


Five times Hermione and Fred innocently shared a bed...

by moonfairy13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts, Mentions of canon violence, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28448157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfairy13/pseuds/moonfairy13
Summary: Fred Weasley enjoyed telling people that the first time he slept with Hermione Granger in his arms, they were in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.“Of course,” he would add, with perfect timing to get the laugh from whoever was nearby, “we were sharing a sleeping bag with George and Ginny, surrounded by the rest of the usual occupants of Gryffindor Tower and being monitored by Dumbledore and Snape… But it still counts, right?”That was the first time Hermione and Fred shared a bed. In total, they innocently bed shared five times throughout their teenage years. Would it ever turn into anything else?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 219
Kudos: 449





	1. The Great Hall

**Author's Note:**

> Right, haven't tried this trope before so here goes 😆 Happy 2021; this is just a short and sweet fic to get us through the second half of the winter. And, for some of us, another few weeks of lockdown... 💜
> 
> I'm going to stick with what we're all used to and update this on Tuesdays. It has 6 parts and it's already finished so you can be confident you won't be left hanging. Enjoy! Big thanks to the other members of the Fremione Sex Club for ongoing fun, encouragement and support, and especially to LSUSWEETIE, who has far more patience for checking canon than I do and helped me get all the dates in the right order 😊
> 
> And the usual caveat: I'm a professional non fiction author who writes fanfic for fun. I have no interest in criticism, so save that for those who will make use of it, but I love reading happy comments if anyone enjoys what I write 💜

Fred Weasley enjoyed telling people that the first time he slept with Hermione Granger in his arms, they were in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

“Of course,” he would add, with perfect timing to get the laugh from whoever was nearby, “we were sharing a sleeping bag with George and Ginny, surrounded by the rest of the usual occupants of Gryffindor Tower and being monitored by Dumbledore and Snape… But it still counts, right?”

Both he and George had been secretly grateful that their brotherly desire to protect Ginny had given them something to think about beyond their own fear that Hallowe’en. Trooped down several flights of stairs and through the castle by Professor McGonagall, they had all been issued purple sleeping bags and pillows. The pair had been told to lie down a few feet away from their little sister, and their respect for the look on the face of the elderly Scottish professor had made them obey, at least initially. But a hushed conversation had confirmed their shared view about three things. One, Ginny deserved brotherly protection. Two, Ron was unlikely to bestow anything of the sort, despite being nearer to their little sister, and three, Percy was too busy prefecting about like the giant tit that he was.

George’s head disappeared into his own sleeping bag for a couple of moments as he used a lumos charm to light the Marauders’ Map and find out exactly where Ginny lay. 

“That direction,” he said, pointing westwards as his red hair re-emerged. “She’s with Hermione by the looks of it. At least someone else was thinking about her.”

The pair shuffled along the polished floor and wove through friends and house mates like long purple caterpillars with whispers of half-apology en route to find her. It took just a minute or two for them to arrive at the invisible boundary between the second and third years. Sure enough, one of their brother’s best friends had shared the same thought about giving the youngest Weasley some support – especially given her experience with Tom Riddle’s diary the previous year – but Hermione been able to implement her plan faster than they, who had begun their journey from in the middle of the fifth years. The light was just enough to let them see a head of bushy brown hair next to a redhead.

“Gin?” George whispered as they reached the two witches, who were huddled in the same sleeping bag and murmuring softly together.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? It’s me,” George said, as he slid up behind her.

“That’s helpful,” Ginny said, “when you two sound exactly the same.”

“Well hello there; what’s a nice witch like you doing up so late on a dark, spooky night like this?” Fred whispered, as he slid into the same position behind Hermione.

“Fred?” Hermione asked.

He gave a low chuckle; the grin on his face unseen in the dim light, but present all the same.

“I love that you can tell us apart better than our own sister,” he said.

Hermione didn’t reply to that. It wasn’t that she could tell their voices apart in the dark; they sounded far too similar for that. But she was observant. And if one twin was expressing concern or sensitivity and the other was joking or flirting, then it was a good bet that the latter was Fred.

“We’ve come to be your knights in shining armour,” George said. “To protect you from the mad, bad Azkaban escapee.”

“Well, as you can see, I’ve already got Hermione and a wand for that, thanks,” Ginny replied. “But it’s bloody chilly in here. I don’t suppose either of us would mind if you wanted to be the wizarding version of hot water bottles.”

“My life is complete,” Fred said. “I can say that I served as storage heater to Hermione Granger. Mistress of Polyjuice, solver of riddles. And I am her humble warming servant. Oh hang on,” he said, reaching his arm over Hemione to feel the sleeping bag and getting distracted by what he found. “You’ve got a double one?”

“Hermione transfigured it.” Ginny sounded quite proud of her friend. “She added a layer of padding underneath as well. It’s helping a bit.”

George raised his head over Ginny’s shoulder. “Can you manage one for four?” he asked Hermione.

It briefly crossed Hermione’s mind that it might not be quite proper to share a sleeping bag with two teenage wizards, especially as one of them was already pressing quite close to her. But she immediately realised that there was nothing improper about siblings snuggling together for warmth, like puppies, and that’s exactly how Fred and George saw her – as another sibling. And these were very unusual circumstances. So she nodded, concentrated, raised her wand and then cast two identical spells to add each of the twins' sleeping bags to the one that she and Ginny were already huddled in. She heard Fred mumble in appreciation as he felt the additional padding appear underneath him.

“Snape!” 

A warning voice came from a few feet away, and all four of them immediately stopped talking. Fred and George moved in a little closer, bracketing the witches with their arms, and Hemione felt a happy sensation in her tummy as Fred’s larger and longer body wrapped around her own. His arm was looped over her waist and she sensed from feeling both him and Ginny shift a bit that he was now holding his sister’s hand. She smiled to herself, realising that, when he wasn't focused on entertaining his audience, he was softer and kinder than his outward ebullience would indicate.

Snape stayed near them for a long while, mainly because Dumbledore had joined him. They were chatting under a silencing charm but, even so, none of the four dared speak for fear of being separated. There was a deep comfort in their togetherness.

Hermione fell asleep with her face buried in her purple pillow and her back snuggled into Fred’s chest. And then, an hour or so later, she awoke. Seeing that Ginny had turned to face George and was cocooned in her brother’s arms, and feeling more bothered by the eerie streaks of moonlight coming through the windows than when she had gone to sleep, Hermione turned to face Fred. He half awoke, raised his right arm slightly, while she adjusted herself, and then lowered it again, cuddling her close to his chest. His breath gently moved through her hair, and Hermione sighed in contentment.

That was the first time that Fred and Hermione held each other through the night.

It wouldn’t be the last.


	2. The Room of Requirement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday, and here's your chapter! 
> 
> And not that I'll be confirming or denying before next Tuesday, but if you're in need of a bit more entertainment when you've read the chapter, feel free to speculate in the comments as to where they'll share a bed next! As you may have noticed, the chapters are named for the locations...
> 
> Clue: I'm not sticking to exact canon specifics but this fic follows canon events and locations, even if things happen a bit differently. And chapter three describes a canon event 😊

Fred and Hermione’s friendship began that night; forged in the experience of holding each other through their unspoken fear. Neither lacked courage, but they had both learned an important lesson. Hermione, an only child who had rarely had close friendships before Hogwarts, had learned that it was possible to bolster her courage and confidence by sharing it with a friend. That shouldn’t have been a new lesson but, somehow, what she had shared through the darkness of the night with Fred was different to what she had with Ron and Harry. She couldn’t have exactly explained how, though, even if anyone had asked. And Fred, an identical twin who had rarely been apart from his brother, had learned that he could gain a different but equally wonderful kind of feeling in partnership with someone else. He didn’t exactly know how that worked either, but it didn’t matter. Something had shifted for both of them and even at breakfast the next morning there was a new kind of frisson between them; a palpable change in the way they related to each other. Before, they had been house mates; acquaintances. Now, they shared a bond. And they began to seek each other out. 

It was small things at first, like a question about homework or an occasional joking request that Hermione set someone else on fire to assist with Gryffindor’s quidditch record, but the frequency of their contact increased over time. Nothing that interfered with Hermione’s friendship with Harry and Ron or with Fred’s partnership with George, but they would often be found with their heads together on a sofa as the hour grew late.

Many deemed Fred and Hermione to be an odd pair but, after a few weeks of raised eyebrows from Ron, silly comments from some of the other wizards and whispered giggles on the part of Lavender and Parvati, the whole house came to accept their friendship. Some of the witches in Fred’s year reconciled their jealousy with the notion that Fred was using Hermione for her ability to help him and George to refine their tricks, although that couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

Hermione soon learned that, contrary to her previous belief, it wasn’t that Fred couldn’t be sensitive. It was that he sometimes got so excited about whatever was most interesting, or clever, or funny to him in the moment, that he forgot to consider anything going on outside of his own mind. Hermione further observed that George’s role wasn’t about compensating for Fred’s inability to be sensitive. Fred was very sensitive when he tapped into that part of himself. No, George simply tended to remind Fred when he needed to press the ‘save and exit’ button on his own excitement for the sake of those he cared about.

Well, Hermione realised: she could do that too. So she watched George’s example and followed his lead. A small touch on Fred’s arm when he was in danger of going too far; a quiet word when he hadn’t noticed, in his ebullience, that someone wasn’t enjoying a prank or party as much as he was. Gentle reminders to channel the kindness that ran through his core even when he was carried away by his own exhilaration. 

Fred wasn’t unaware of her efforts, and he was touched by the care of the little witch who had become one of his closest friends. Her actions weren’t one sided either. Fred, in turn, had noticed that Hermione sometimes had trouble relaxing. So he watched to see how Harry brought out Hermione’s light side, and followed suit, though with an added layer of Weasley confidence and panache. She would occasionally find herself the recipient of gifts and gestures designed to remind her than there was life beyond books. An unusually quiet Fred would appear beside her on the sofa and begin to rub her neck and shoulders, or the small of her back. She would be pulled outside for a walk, if the weather was warm enough, or be magically put into a woollen scarf and hat and still pulled outside for a walk if it wasn’t. Hermione’s protests would be met with promises to talk about arithmancy or transfiguration all the way to the Black Lake or Hogsmeade, although Fred somehow always managed to turn the conversation to something less academic on the way back.

On several occasions, they went to Hogsmeade together at the weekend. They were often in a larger group as well and it was always platonic. Hermione liked it that way. Yes, Fred was an attractive wizard, and she sometimes wondered why he didn’t flirt with her in the same way that he flirted with Angelina and Alicia and Katie, but she never minded. She was well aware that she wasn’t that sort of witch, and her focus was increasingly on how she could help, support and protect Harry.

Hermione loved the challenge of participating in experimental magic, especially when George granted Fred permission to show Hermione their secret workroom, where they spent many of their free periods and evenings experimenting with potions and products. It contained soft sofas, a roaring fire and shelves full of fascinating old books. There was a door to the kitchens and a corner which was set up and fully supplied for making potions. 

“We just came across it one day,” Fred explained. “George and I were dancing about in the corridor, galloping up and down in the manner of Barnabas the Barmy and talking about how wonderful it would be if we could find a space to work on our products, and suddenly a door opened up. It’s not even on the map. We think it’s the same room that turned into a broom cupboard once when we needed to hide from Filch.” He shrugged. “But we don’t really care how it comes about; it’s just perfect for what we need.”

Hermione spent many evenings in their secret room with Fred, and sometimes with George as well. Sometimes, she studied while they perfected products, and sometimes she would put her books down and get involved. On a few occasions, when she was tired from using the time turner, she would use it to slip back a few hours and take herself to the twins’ special room where she would curl up on the sofa and sleep. More than once, she woke to find that they were working on something together, having covered her with a blanket.

It was Fred who Hermione told first when Viktor asked her to the Yule Ball. His expression had been odd at first, she noticed, but he had been happy for her. Probably, she decided, he was looking out for her in the same way he did with Ginny. It was also Fred who Hermione confided in when, the day after saying yes to the older Bulgarian, she found herself panicking at the thought that Viktor might want to kiss her and she wouldn’t know what to do.

“I’ve never been kissed!” she told him, face pink from embarrassment.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Fred said. And then he leaned in closer. “Hermione Granger,” he whispered. “May I have the honour of giving you your first real kiss? That way, you’ll know what to do next time?”

Hermione felt an entirely new and unexpected sensation wash over her. She nodded and then, for the next three and a half minutes, while Fred gently took her face into his hands and pressed a couple of gentle kisses to her lips and then the corner of her mouth before slowly and deliberately snogging her until she felt like she would melt and never again be able to take solid form, no matter how well she understood the laws of transfiguration, she couldn’t even think.

When Fred pulled away, after placing a couple more soft kisses on her lips, he cuddled Hermione against his chest and they just sat on the sofa together while several minutes passed. She didn’t quite know what to say but, at the same time she knew that she didn’t need to say anything. Hermione felt inexplicably happy to have shared this experience with Fred. Part of her wanted to tell him that, but another part of her dared not say it out loud. And then, while she was trying to decide whether to say anything or not, George came in, all chatter about snack boxes, the moment passed, and Fred moved to stand up. All Hermione could do was to catch his hand and whisper her thanks. Fred gave her a wide smile, nodded, and winked.

The next day, he asked Angelina to the ball.

Over the following months, Fred’s friendship served as an anchor for Hermione, who was increasingly caught up in Harry’s world. Which was exactly where she wanted and needed to be. She and Fred spoke every day, thanks to the proximity created by their shared common room and dining table, and theirs was an easy, happy relationship. Something light and eternal in the growing darkness that was the terror of an Umbridge-controlled Hogwarts. Fred and George made Hermione aware of their plans to leave the school, wreaking havoc on their way out, and she helped create the magic. Even they hadn’t decided the timing, though, so she was a little startled when Fred pushed a scrap of parchment into her hand when their paths crossed in the corridor one day.

It contained one word: tomorrow.

As soon as she had finished her lessons, Hermione ran to the room of requirement, hoping that it was currently set up as Fred and George’s potions palace, as she had come to call it. It was, and their set-up allowed her entry. For the first time ever, she ignored her homework in favour of spending the evening sat close to Fred, feeling a range of emotions: pride in their actions, excitement for their future, worry for their wellbeing and sadness at the thought of not seeing one of her best friends every day. When, at about ten to nine, she looked up from her position on Fred’s chest to say goodbye to George, who said he was leaving to spend the night with Angelina, the younger twin nodded his head to a point in the room behind the cuddling pair.

“Look,” he said. “You should just stay here, and then you can have a bit more time to chat, without worrying about being caught out after curfew…”

Hermione turned to see that the room had made them a double bed. It wasn’t a romantic set-up, by any means, but a cosy, homelike arrangement with soft pillows and a large patchwork quilt.

“Come on,” said Fred, as he led Hermione over. He turned, keeping his back to her as he shed his robes and trousers, leaving himself just in boxers and a tee shirt. Hermione took off her outer robes and transfigured her clothes into a pair of tartan pyjamas which made Fred smile. “Perfect, he declared,” and then slid into the bed, holding his arms out for Hermione in the same position in which he had held her a couple of years before.

They chatted for an hour; about their plans and fears. They made promises about sending owls, and shared reassurances that, one day, the world would be safe. As the room adjusted the lighting and darkness slowly fell, they shared increasingly wild ideas about the adventures they would have in the future. Hermione told Fred how successful the shop would be, and listed all the places where they would one day have branches of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Fred shared a whole range of possible fantasies for his friend to pick from; Hermione as the Minister of Magic, as a Professor at Hogwarts, as a Potions Mistress.

His last fantasy was the most outlandish of all. “You could even end up marrying me and being the mother of all my naughty babies as well, you know, Hermione,” he whispered softly, just as they were falling asleep. “If you’d have me, anyway…”

“What?” Hermione whispered back, only half-awake and not willing to wake herself back up just to fall for Fred’s latest joke. “You don’t even flirt with me like you flirt with the witches on the quidditch team,” she told him, though she didn’t really expect to get an answer.

“Exactly,” Fred said, adjusting his arm around Hermione one last time before he fell asleep.

Hermione lay in his arms for several minutes, trying to work that out, and then gave up. In any case, she wanted to be well rested to enjoy his and George’s exit.


	3. The Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy Tuesday! And a virtual Weasley sweater to Amebb42 for correctly guessing that The Burrow is the setting for today's chapter. Hope you all enjoy it, thank you for all the happy comments (I am REALLY done with lockdown, so it helps a lot) and feel free to guess where our pair will be sharing a bed in chapter 4 😆 😊 💜

Not long after they had landed at The Burrow, Kingsley employed his finely-honed powers of observation to develop a theory that Hermione Granger was secretly in love with one of the other six Potters. 

She had made a small moaning sound outside when Professor Lupin had said that only Harry, Hagrid, George and himself had arrived back. When Kingsley heard the young witch’s response to hearing that George had lost an ear, he naturally wondered whether it was George who she liked. But just moments later, once they were finally allowed into the bright living room which made such a contrast from the darkness through which they had flown, his assessment changed. When Arthur and Fred arrived, the observant auror watched where Hermione’s eyes moved and realised that it was actually Fred who had her attention. Full of concern for the elder twin, she stood back, allowing Molly and Arthur to be near their son and giving Fred and George the space they needed together. But, even though Kingsley was monitoring many things that night, he didn’t miss the way that Hermione’s focus stayed on Fred, even when she was chatting with Ron and Harry. Kingsley wasn't sure whether she was aware of it herself.

Hours later, long after she and Ron had listened to Harry telling them about poor Ollivander, once the rest of the Order had left and Molly had finally run out of things to do and retired upstairs, Hermione quietly got up from her bed in Ginny’s room. She had been terrified by what Harry had told her. There was no chance that she was going to sleep after what had happened, but she had more to worry about than just herself and Harry. She wanted to check on the wizard who so often occupied her thoughts. These days, Fred was the wizard most likely to come to mind in the few moments that Hermione had to herself each day before she fell asleep and when she first woke up. Sometimes she dreamed of him. Either way, more often than not, Fred's face was the one she would imagine in the space between wakefulness and dreaming, which always reminded Hermione of a line from a Peter Pan film that she had once watched with her mum. Hermione tried not to think too much about why that was, because that scene had been a bit romantic and things were so unbelievably _not_ normal in the world that there didn't seem to be any place for thinking romantically about boys who had once kissed her. But there was a certain kind of solace in thinking about a friend, and she allowed herself that.

Hermione crept down the wooden stairs, using her wand to silence the places where they creaked. When she arrived back in the living room, she wasn’t surprised to see that Fred was sat on the sofa across from the one on which his brother lay. Molly had finally accepted that he wasn’t going to leave George, and she didn’t want to levitate the younger twin up the stairs while his wound was fresh, so she had had Arthur enlarge both sofas and turn each of them into a bed. George was tucked up on his; high on pain potion and wearing pyjamas rather than the outfits that matched Harry’s. Fred was still in the clothes they had ridden through the night in.

Hermione sat down next to him and slid an arm around his back. Immediately, Fred turned and engulfed her in a hug, finally allowing the tears to flow.

“I was so worried I had lost him,” he sobbed. “I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t think I can sleep … need to make sure he’s okay.”

“I promise he’s okay,” she said, stroking Fred’s back. “Listen!”

They both stayed silent for a moment, and then Fred smiled a bit as he realised what Hermione meant. He was so used to the sound of George’s snores that he hadn’t registered them.

“If he’s snoring, he’s breathing,” she said. “Now, I’ll stay with you and help you listen to him snore.” She produced a hanky from the pocket of her pyjamas. “Blow,” she instructed, handing it to him, and he did, with a small smile at her ministrations. “Let’s get you out of these, too.” Hermione began to pull the replica of Harry’s jacket off Fred’s arm, and he bent his elbow to help.

Within a few minutes, Hermione had Fred down to his tee shirt and boxers, and she enlarged his pillow a bit before pulling the bedcovers over them both. Molly’s laundry cupboard was a bit of a hotchpotch, and there were several layers of bedding to contend with. That made for a few minutes of giggling, negotiation and using their hands and feet to try to get all of their limbs covered up at the same time. Hermione was happy to see that the unusual challenge – and her threat to put a sticking spell on Fred’s feet as a means of securing their bedding – seemed to serve as a distraction from his worry, and soon they were tucked together under a pile of blankets. She whispered a spell that would have her wand vibrate and wake her before Molly awoke – for the last thing the pair needed was interference in their friendship and need for company – and then turned back to snuggle into Fred’s arms.

“Don’t move,” she warned him.

“I won’t. I’m very comfy like this,” Fred replied. He adjusted his head position a fraction, so that Hermione’s head was tucked safely under his chin, in what was becoming their usual sleeping posture. Both relaxed at the feeling of the others' body. They hadn't slept together since the Room of Requirement, and life had been busy for both of them. Fred had been working on the shop, with George, and Hermione had been working on keeping Harry alive. They had exchanged owls every few days, though, and their friendship had further deepened as they used their correspondence to share details of their daily lives as well as their secrets and worries. They would reassure each other in turn. Fred had offered to sneak into Hogwarts and prank Cormac, and Hermione had sent suggestions which improved at least three Wheezes products. Neither had mentioned kissing or babies since that night, though Fred had also frequently found himself thinking about Hermione, generally late at night, and wondering if things would ever become safe enough to think about the possibility of a life beyond the fight against the dark forces that shadowed their world.

"I miss you at school," Hermione said softly, wanting to at least let Fred know that he was still in her thoughts. Often. "It's not the same without you," she added. And it wasn't. Even after all this time.

She felt his arms tighten gently around her, and Fred's fingers stroked her side. "I'm sure it's not," he grinned. And then he spoke more softly. "I miss you too, love."

“No shagging in front of the patient!”

The voice had come from the other sofa and, as much as Hermione was glad to hear it, she couldn’t help her indignant response.

“George!”

The combination of the stern tone of Hermione’s voice and the pain potion that Molly had given him made George begin to giggle, and then giggle some more, and that had them all laughing.

“We’re hugging, not shagging,” Hermione told him. Fred’s arms gave another reassuring, gentle squeeze.

George replied with another giggle and then a loud snore, which made Fred smile and drop a kiss onto Hermione’s head.

“Ignore him … he’s high as a kite,” he said. 

Hermione huffed out a small laugh, but she was too exhausted by the evening's events to continue chatting, however badly she might want to. “Let’s sleep,” she said, snuggling herself further into Fred’s arms. “I’m so tired.”

So they did.


	4. Shell Cottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we have shots of celebratory firewhisky for Ralina, jlchetti, PTwritesmore and SunshineSkies13 (who actually predicted the entire plot of this one 😮😊) for correctly guessing the venue for this chapter. Here's today's fluffiness 💜 I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to predict the next venue if you're having fun with that!

When they arrived at Shell Cottage, thanks to poor, sweet Dobby and his quick actions, Ron had immediately taken Hermione outside while Bill had reassured Harry that she would be all right. Later, Bill was less certain. He heard Ron reassuring Harry the second time, telling his friend that Fleur was looking after Hermione, but by that point both Bill and his wife were sure that Hermione had been tortured. Not that the trio would confirm anything, which frustrated Bill and engendered his respect for them in almost equal measure.

In the chaos that accompanied the trio’s realisations, Harry’s planning, the conversations about the elder wand and Gringott’s and what to do next, Hermione appeared to be quietly coping. But, thanks to their shared expertise, both Fleur and Bill were able – when they focused hard enough – to hear through silencing spells cast by others in their own house. The third time they heard the ragged breathing that accompanied her waking from the nightmares, Fleur crept to the side of her bed while Bill stood watch at Hermione’s bedroom door.

“Oh, my love,” said the elder witch, kneeling beside the bed in her nightdress and gently stroking Hermione’s hair. “We need to help you sleep. If you could sleep, just for a night, I think you would feel better. A potion, perhaps?”

“No.” Hermione’s voice was firm, and Fleur nodded. “Thank you, but no.”

“Is there someone who you feel very safe with, who we could call to hold you, my darling? So you at least had someone there. Perhaps Ron? Or ‘Arry?” Fleur shrugged and then gave Hermione a small smile as she stroked her hair. Molly wouldn’t approve, she knew, but that was hardly the main concern here. Hermione needed a pair of arms to hold her through the darkness. Fleur would offer her own embrace, or even her husband’s, if she thought it would help, but the look that crossed Hermione’s face when Fleur asked that question told her that there was someone else who would do the job better. Someone Hermione cared for and felt safe with. “No-one need ever know, except for myself and Bill,” she added, and the younger witch responded to the care and concern in the Frenchwoman’s eyes.

Hermione nodded, and then spoke just one word.

“Fred.”

“On it.” Bill spoke from the door, not even hesitating to register his surprise at her choice, and then he was gone. Fleur sat with Hermione, administering tea, a bit of firewhisky and whispered comfort for the five minutes that it took for Bill to return with his younger brother, who had clearly been briefed enough to not ask any questions. Once in Hermione’s bedroom, Fred simply shucked off his travelling cloak, revealing a pair of blue pyjamas and then, with a brief nod and smile to Fleur, lifted up the duvet and climbed into bed with Hermione.

“Hello, love.”

Fred’s arrival was like a balm to Hermione’s soul. She finally allowed the tears to fall, while Fred simply stroked her hair and added his own whispers of comfort. Some minutes after she began softly sobbing into Fred’s chest, she relaxed the hands that had clasped his pyjama jacket and it became clear to all that she had fallen asleep; exhausted.

“Right, then.” Bill nodded a goodnight to Fred, who had wrapped himself around Hermione, and he and Fleur left the room. He fetched a pillow and a couple of blankets for George, who had insisted on coming too, and pointed the younger twin to the couch in the living room.

“Are they together?” Bill asked his brother.

George shook his head. “Nah, not yet,” he said. Then he grinned. “Bet you ten galleons they will be before the year’s out though?” He offered his hand to his brother, to seal the bet.

Bill laughed and shook his head, his arms remaining by his side. “I’m not betting against that, after what I’ve just seen.”

Hermione woke three or four more times that night, and Fred was there every time. He held her; stroking her arms and hair, softly patting her bandages and murmuring more reassurances into her ears. He listened to the bits she wanted to tell him, without pressing for the depth and the detail that she clearly wasn't ready to relive. Fred's eyes filled with tears when Hermione told him that, one day, when she was ready to tell the story, she wanted him to be the one to hear it. He hugged her closer and told her snippets of stories of happy woodland creatures that his mum had told him as a tiny wizard, promising her that they would soon be free, and enjoy high days and holidays together.

“Just imagine, when we’ve won, and we can spend Christmas in peace. All of us together. Might even make enchanted mistletoe at the shop. You might even end up kissing me under it,” he teased. His voice was a whisper, toned down to soothe and relax. "It's a long time since I kissed you..."

“How?”

“Huh?” Fred was confused; sleepy himself. Bill had flooed into their flat well after he and George had gone to bed and the initial jolt of adrenaline had now been replaced by a kind of exhaustion that he hadn’t known until recent weeks.

“How will you enchant the mistletoe?” Hermione tipped her head back a bit so she could look into his eyes; she could just about see him in the one shaft of moonlight that was coming through a crack in the curtains. “What charm will you use?”

At first, Fred felt a bit cheered to see Hermione taking an interest in something beyond the room; beyond this night. He even, for a fleeting second, hoped that she might have as much interest in kissing him again as he did in kissing her, the witch he was cuddling so tenderly. And then his heart sank, and he wished he could take his words back. It hit him in that moment that, whatever the detail of what had happened to Hermione at Malfoy Manor, the key issue was that _she hadn’t consented to any of it_. It had all been done to her and against her will. Which meant that this wasn’t the time to share details of the actual enchanted mistletoe that he and George had plotted to make in happier times. That kind of mistletoe would trap a witch in place until she was kissed. Not a good thought right now. He swallowed, thinking quickly.

“I’ll make a very special kind of enchanted mistletoe, just for you,” Fred promised. “It protects everyone and it smells like Christmas. And dances around the house giving lectures on free will and handing out S.P.E.W. badges.” He was careful to say the initials. “Maybe it'll have a charm to give shy witches the confidence to kiss whoever takes their fancy,” Fred added, still stroking her curls as he chatted away, making the darkest of nights more bearable for the witch who had endured the most unimaginable time.

Hermione exhaled something that, if not a laugh, at least sounded less sad than before. “That sounds like my kind of mistletoe,” she said, before snuggling her head into a now familiar position and falling asleep again on Fred’s chest. Before she drifted off completely, she whispered once more. "Thank you for being here for me, Fred."

Fred swallowed, and it took him a few moments to be able to answer. "I'll always be here for you, love," he said. "Gods willing. And if you'll let me. I love you, Hermione..." But Hermione had fallen back to sleep, and she didn't hear his words. Probably just as well, he realised, with a sigh. Now wasn't really the time. He already knew they were going back into the thick of it, and it wouldn't be fair to add to the emotional rollercoaster that she was already riding on. But, as Fred cradled Hermione in his arms, softly crying for the pain that she had felt, he decided to hope that, whatever she, Harry and Ron were going to do next, perhaps his love for her would seep into her dreams and help carry her through the darkness.


	5. St Mungos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a virtual Weasley hug for jlchetti, joyouscxj, Amebb42, Ralina and Shawnjoell for correctly predicting this chapter's venue, and I hope you enjoy the update. Final chapter next Tuesday 😊 💜

Hermione didn’t know how long it had been since she and Ron had stood with Harry while he talked to Dumbledore’s portrait about the Elder wand. Neither could she remember how she had got from Hogwarts to St Mungos. Hermione couldn’t have told anyone whether it was day or night, in fact, and it struck her that magical hospital rooms were just as bad for their reliance on the horrible yellow tone of artificial light as muggle ones. All she knew was that, like every other member of the Weasley family, she wanted Fred to wake more than anything else in the world.

Arthur, Bill and Charlie took turns to get up to fetch drinks and ask if people wanted things. Had her brain been working normally, Hermione might have developed a theory about the older wizards’ need to protect and provide. Molly and George were a mess and, understandably, neither would let go of Fred’s hands. Ron paced between Fred’s room and Lavender’s room, until Arthur told him to stay with his witch. Lavender had no-one else to be with her in that moment, but Fred did, and they would send Ron word as soon as Fred woke. With a quick glance at Molly, a promise to send a patronus with news and a stab of reminiscence about the night at his own cottage when Hermione had needed support, Bill quietly paved the way for Ginny to go to be with Harry, who they knew had gone to his bed in Gryffindor Tower. Percy sat with his head in his hands, somehow feeling guilty despite the fact that, if it weren’t for him and his super-fast spellwork, Fred would likely not even be here, but in the great hall with their other fallen friends. 

The healers were in and out constantly. They had put Fred in a magical coma, they explained, so that they could mend his broken bones with industrial quantities of skele gro and heal his head injuries. They had little doubt that he would survive, they explained to Molly and Arthur, but they couldn’t be certain about his condition, or how his head injury would affect him. Whether he would still be ‘their Fred'.

When she heard that, Hermione realised that she loved him, plain and simple. For all of her happiness at the defeat of Voldemort and the survival of her best friend, she wanted Fred to be himself again more than anything. To tease her; to play his stupid pranks; to engage her in verbal sparring and debate. To hold her through the night. Every night. His arms around her while she nuzzled her face into the soft warmth of his neck. She’d even bloody let him make good on his teasing threats to kiss her at Christmas. Before Christmas, if he wanted. Heck, she thought, trying to transfer the contents of her mind and heart to the mind of the pale, redheaded wizard laying on the bed, you can kiss me right now if you’ll just wake up and be yourself again.

And then he had opened his eyes. Looked around the room, slowly. And uttered six words. 

“Hello, Mum.” His eyes alighted on Molly first, squinting as his mother squeezed him and exclaimed her delight. Before she had finished, he was already turning his head, grimacing at the pain and causing a healer to wave her wand in assistance. Besides his mum, there were two people Fred wanted to see more than any others. A tap on his shoulder caught his attention and his eyes alighted on George. “Hello, mate.” He gave a half smile when George stood from his chair beside the bed and, without ceremony, got in under the covers on one side of Fred, hugging his twin gently. Sensing exactly what Fred was thinking, George pointed to Hermione, and Fred’s face broke into something resembling his usual grin, which cheered his healers no end. “Hello, love!”

Hermione surged forward, uncaring of what anyone else thought. She went to stand beside Molly and leaned across the bed to hug Fred. Molly had turned in her delight and was lifted off the floor by Arthur, who pulled her a little further back again when he saw what Fred was trying to do. Arthur watched his son lift his bedcovers, in a gesture that was now so familiar to Hermione. She ignored propriety and, like George, simply climbed in beside him. One healer tutted at the sight of the grubby little witch scrambling between their nice white sheets with her boots on. His colleague placed an arm on his back; a gentle reminder that some things were more important than rules and norms and standards. Especially today. She surreptitiously cast a spell making Fred’s bed bigger, to properly accommodate the others.

When she had finished hugging Arthur, Molly had embraced every member of her family and unnecessarily reminded Bill to send his patronus to Ron and Ginny. When she finally turned back to look at Fred, Molly had gasped. Fred had shifted himself up the bed a few inches. His left arm was around Hermione and his right was around George.

Questions were asked of him. Someone flashed a lumos spell into each of his eyes and then stared into their depths to see what happened. Numbers of fingers were shown to him and other standard cognitive tests were set. Everyone laughed in joy and relief when, without thinking, a healer asked him who the current Minister of Magic was in order to test his memory and recall. Fred replied, “well hopefully someone good now!” 

Fred answered everything he was asked for three minutes, and then he protested.

“Stop and tell me some things,” he said, looking worried. “Where are Harry and Ron? And Gin?”

“They’re all fine,” George said quickly. “Safe and sound elsewhere. Ron’s with Lav in another room.”

Fred groaned and then laughed. “That’s good, then. Don’t need them snogging all over my sick bed.”

Then he heard Hermione’s voice. “Percy saved your life. You would have been completely crushed by a wall but he managed to cast a protego which stopped some of the falling stones.”

Fred’s eyes connected with his brother’s, and a whole conversation passed between them. Percy neared the bed, and Fred reached for his hand, and then pulled his brother down so that he could put Percy in something approximating a headlock before whispering a heartfelt thank you into his ear. Only George and Hermione heard the conversation, and none of them ever shared what was said. But Percy would never find himself on the wrong end of a Weasley twin prank again. The same could not be said of Ministry employees who were disrespectful of him in the decades that followed. It was almost as if the otherwise staid and respectful wizard had suddenly acquired a couple of naughty guardian angels who would seek retribution against anyone who crossed him. Twin guardian angels who concurrently ensured that Percy himself had an alibi and was always able to plausibly deny knowledge of the misfortunes that befell his rivals. If anyone had been monitoring the situation, they might have noticed that, more often than not, Hermione would just have visited the Ministry, or would be publicly taking tea with Percy in some nice tea shop when the event occurred.

Eventually, Molly agreed to leave Fred’s hospital room, on the basis that everyone was hungry and they all needed the reassurance of one of her dinners. Eventually, Molly accepted that George and Hermione weren’t coming back to The Burrow that night with everyone else. The healers wanted to keep Fred overnight, and Fred agreed to this only if the other two stayed. The deal was agreed, dinner was sent back to them and Fred’s bed was further enlarged.

That night, Fred slept with his twin brother curled up behind him and Hermione in his arms. The three whispered together into the night. As Arthur would say to Molly when they were getting ready for bed that night, it was totally innocent.

But that was the last night on which such a thing could be said of Fred and Hermione’s bed sharing.


	6. Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say a big thank you to those of you who were patient and reached out to me with lovely messages when I didn't post the final chapter of this last week. We had a death in the family and I needed to spend time with my husband and kids. And I don't have time to go back through and list everyone that got the final venue right, but many of you guessed it, hooray! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter, even though the smut is being left to your imagination here. (If you want Fremione smut, go and read [Befitting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24335971), and consider it an epilogue to show how happy and smutty these two will be a few years down the line 😆 💜)

Hermione woke first the next morning. Or at least she thought she had, judging by the silence in the bright hospital room. She took a couple of deep breaths, enjoying the comfort of laying in Fred’s arms, nestled against his chest. But then she realised that both Fred and George were already awake. They were chatting softly, under a silencing spell that George must have cast, for she knew that Fred’s wand would have been safely locked away by the healers when he was unconscious. She wouldn't know it for several months, but Fred was already tapping his twin up for help in designing the magical mistletoe he had promised Hermione on the night that Bill had come to take him to Shell Cottage.

“Good morning,” she murmured, wriggling a little so they would know she was awake. She saw George’s mouth move, and Fred’s lips curved upwards as he turned to her. Seconds later, she heard the buzzing of the background hospital noise as the finite spell was cast, and George gave her a little salute as Fred’s smile widened even more.

“Morning, love,” he said.

“Right,” said George, who was already reversing out of the bed. “That’s my cue. I’m off to Mum’s for some breakfast. I’ll bring you both something back in a bit.” He gave Fred a significant look, and his brother nodded. “Oh, and one last thing,” he said, waving his wand at Fred’s mouth and casting a breath-freshening charm.

Fred grinned his thanks and, while his head was turned, Hermione quickly located her wand and cast the same charm on herself. If George thought that Fred’s breath smelled, then hers might too, and she didn’t want that.

Once George had left the room, Fred wasted no time. He took the opportunity to stretch a bit, having not wanted to move too much while Hermione still slept, and then his face took on an unusually serious look.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

“Alright…” Hermione’s eyes were as eager as ever and Fred couldn’t help but smile and touch her face. She liked it.

“When the wall fell,” he began, and cradled her a little closer when he felt her wince. “No, it’s okay,” he reassured, stroking her back gently with long fingers. “I’m okay; we’re all okay.”

A pause, while he waited for her to relax and nod.

“You know what people supposedly say about your whole life flashing before you? Well, I don’t know about that; it was all a bit quick for that. But I had one thought … one regret … that I hadn’t told you how I felt about you. Well,” he smiled, “not when you were awake to hear it, anyway.” 

Fred’s eyes filled with tears, and Hermione’s followed suit, in sympathy. 

“The thought that filled my mind when I thought I was going to die was that I had never told you that I loved you. And I do. I love you. I don’t know exactly when I fell in love with you, but it was somewhere between the Great Hall and the Room of Requirement. I’m not sure I knew it then, but it happened. And I don’t know if you feel the same, but I can’t live a moment longer without making sure you know that you are loved.”

“Oh fuck, Fred!” Hermione was grinning and crying at the same time, and he grinned as well when he realised that her tears and response were to do with how touched she was by his words. 

“What does that mean?” Fred laughed, and caught the hand that she was using to stroke his face. “I declare my love for you, and you swear at me,” he teased. “Are you turning me down? Or just setting the tone for our relationship?”

“The latter,” Hermione said, using her toes and knees to push her body higher up the bed so she was level with Fred’s face. “I’m a bit in love with you too,” she told him, her hand moving gently to his shoulder. “I have been for a while, I think. But, with everything that was happening, it never really seemed like the right time…”

Fred closed the last gap and their mouths met in a long kiss that was full of promise. They each gently reached for the back of the other’s neck and Fred tried to gently roll Hermione onto her back.

“I don’t think so,” she muttered, smiling against his lips. “We’ll start this as we mean to go on…” As she spoke, she pushed Fred back and he laughed, raised his eyebrows and allowed her to do just that.

“I see,” he said, and then she silenced his chatting with her lips and tongue. Fred made a gentle moaning sound, slipped one of his long legs between Hermione’s and they kissed and stroked each other until the healers came in to discharge him, closely followed by George, who was covering his eyes with one hand and brandishing a plate of bacon and egg baps with the other.

The month that followed was bittersweet. For Hermione and Fred, as well as for several other couples, there was the joy and happiness of being in a new relationship, and in peacetime; of exploring each other during long, sunny days. But there were so many funerals too, for people they had known and loved. They lost count of the times they stood together in black, shedding tears for friends and classmates who were being laid to rest.

There were also reminders that not one of those friends and classmates would want them to do anything other than enjoy the freedom they had given their lives to win, and so their tears heralded love and hope as much as they mourned loss.

Hermione and Fred expressed their own love and hope by their almost constant holding of hands and entwining of fingers, which earned Fred equally constant ribbing by his brothers; delighted to have something to tease the joker about. He would grin stupidly, telling them that he didn’t care; that he was just so glad to be alive and with the witch he loved. And his brothers would quickly turn away when they saw the sincere, loving look in his eyes, not one of them wanting him to see their tears; not wanting to dwell on the thought that, if not for grace and the speed of Percy’s protego charm, they might be having to deal with even more loss.

A month after the battle, Fred and George turned up for breakfast at The Burrow one Saturday morning and demanded the company of Hermione and Ginny that day and evening. The pair had offered to help with product making in the back room of the shop, for which they would be rewarded with dinner and wine. It would be best if they stayed over in the twins’ flat, George announced casually. That way, no-one would have to floo or apparate home when tired or tipsy. He followed his statement with an immediate request to be passed the jam, and Fred gently led the conversation on to how very delicious his mother’s rhubarb and ginger confection was that year. It was almost as if it had all been planned out and rehearsed.

Molly wasn’t fooled by them. Neither was she happy about the idea of the two witches spending the night at Fred and George’s flat. But she could hardly mind them going to the shop for the day, especially as they had nothing to do until term began. In the end, Ginny had convinced her with one sentence. “Mum,” she had said, patting Molly on the shoulder. “I promise that I will personally ensure that Hermione’s honour is just as intact in the morning as it is right now.” She then thanked her mother for breakfast, moved her chair, offered Hermione a hand and led her friend upstairs to pack their overnight things while Fred and George kept Molly chatting for a few minutes before they took their leave to go and open the shop.

“It’s not that I’m not grateful for your help in getting us away, Ginny,” Hermione huffed, as the two walked away from The Burrow so they could apparate to Diagon Alley. She and Fred had been planning this night together for some time. It would be the first night they had spent in the same bed since he left hospital, and she hadn’t anticipated this. “But my so-called honour is my business. What if I wanted to spend the night with Fred?” 

Ginny looked confused. “But of course you’re going to spend the night with Fred,” she said. “You’re sleeping in Fred’s room, George and Angie are in his room, and Harry and I are flooing to Grimmauld. It’s all arranged. The twins have agreed to cover for me and not give Harry a hard time in return for me helping to wrestle you out of Mum’s clutches.” She grinned; her smile looking exactly like George’s in that moment. “And you and Fred can do whatever you like!”

“So why did you say that about my honour?” Hermione was confused. Ginny laughed and leaned in.

“Your honour isn’t in your pussy, Hermione,” she said softly. “You know that, and I know that.” Ginny reached out and gently poked Hermione’s chest. “It’s here. No matter what my mum or anyone else thinks. And nothing that you might do with Fred or any other wizard will affect your honour in any way. Fuck, you could sleep with every single one of my brothers and you’d still be the most honourable person I know! Bloody hell, Hermione; you fought by Harry’s side. We wouldn’t all BE here if it wasn’t for you.” Her face fell a little. “I hope you know that you’re going to need to be the Godmother to all my kids, because any kids that I have will need to know that they wouldn’t even have existed if it wasn’t for you. So don’t you dare think that your honour or any of the amazing good things about you are in any way affected by anything you do with men!” 

Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head a little at her friend. Hermione smiled, and nodded before pulling Ginny into a hug. “Thanks for the reminder,” she said. She decided not to point out how much Ginny looked and sounded like Molly, even if she had different beliefs from her mother.

"You two are perfect together," added the youngest Weasley. "There's been something between you forever. Ever since he and George came piling over like caterpillars to come and check on us that night."

Hermione smiled at the memory. "That was the first time I slept in his arms," she mused, as she remembered the nights they had spent together since. They had always been there when the other had needed them the most. Ginny's heart melted at the soft look in her friend's eyes as she reminisced; she was so sure that Hermione and Fred were the real deal. She had even offered Bill a bet, though she had been a bit confused when he had declined it with a grin. That had tipped Ginny off that there was more to find out about Hermione and Fred's story, but now wasn't the time for that. It was time for the pair to be together. "And honestly," Hermione was saying, as Ginny broke from her reverie, "I just couldn't imagine ever wanting to be with anyone else."

Ginny reached out her arms, and the two witches hugged. "I'm just so glad you found each other," she said.

Later that night, after a day of product making interspersed with butterbeer and snacks and fun, friendly conversation, four Weasleys and their partners – for Ron and Lavender had joined them as well, once Ron had heard that workers were being rewarded with food – headed upstairs to the flat. Takeaway was bought, wine was opened and they took it all up to the roof garden which was on top of the shop building.

After they had eaten, Hermione took her glass of wine and went to stand at the edge, overlooking Diagon Alley.

“You okay, love?” Fred came up behind her and slipped his arms around his witch’s waist.

“I’m alright,” she said, catching the fingers of his hand with her own. “Just thinking about tonight.”

Fred leaned his head down until his cheek rested against Hermione’s. “We can just snuggle, like all the other times,” he promised. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“Oh…” Hermione turned around in his arms and gave Fred a look which caused his trousers to suddenly feel too tight. “Oh, I’m ready, Fred. I think we’ve done enough platonic sleeping together now. In fact, I’m feeling like I’m ready for bed right now; how about you?”

“Absolutely,” said Fred, who was now sporting one of the biggest grins that Hermione had ever seen on his face. “Lead the way…”

And, to the sound of friendly, teasing cheers from their family and friends, the pair went to Fred’s room to forever put paid to their habit of taking comfort in the innocent sharing of a bed and each other’s arms…


End file.
